Russian Roulette
by Candy3314
Summary: Two men sit across from each other with a table in between and nothing but a bulb hanging above as a light. A gun, a bullet, and a duffle bag of green lay on the table. That is all, nothing more, and nothing less. Just a simple game of russian roulette. That is for certain. Who will walk out to see another sunrise is the mystery.


"So you wanna die, eh?"

I stayed silent, head low and bangs in face.

"..Yes."

A scoff hissed on his scratchy lips.

"I don't."

I could feel my eyes narrow and my body tense.

"Why are you here then?"

There was a shuffling before I felt my head rise by the pull of a single, dirty finger motioning at my chin. I looked into his eyes that were as icy and silver as a bullet.

"I hate to lose."

Tingles of alcohol was on his breath and it made my stomach churn at the scent.

"Oh?"

It was mucky in the room. The swinging of the lightbulb hanging was putting me on edge. I adjusted my eyes off to the side before meeting his. They were glimmering with some mixture of amusement and my lips pulled into a line.

"Yes, it's a... fault of mine. I rather die then not win."

I felt my chest fall as I inhaled, just listening to the soft intake before reverting my eyes to the floor, to his, then back.

"..."

It was the only time where I ever treasured a silence.

"You don't want to die, do you?"

A noise peeked in my throat, but never made it quite out as I shuffled my feet, breathing. Just breathing. It was unbearably hot. Uncomfortably, I shook my head.

"...No."

It stayed silent.

"It's fun, don't you think?"

A chill ran up my spine, becoming a mixture with my sweat.

"..."

I could here clicking.

"The little game we play...?"

He was edging me on- I knew he was, but I stayed silent. It all stunk of crust and grim and the residents of green on the table. Another click.

"I play for what's on the table, but I suppose what's on the table is a bit... fun."

It barely mustered from my lips, and the sound of the rolling metallic cylinder made me choke on my spit that was drying up, leaving my mouth as tasteless as sandpaper.

"So it is."

He chuckled and my stomach churned again at the sound of something so sickly-so out of place for the moment.

"..."

One more click.

"It's time to play..."

I felt my eyes burn and my body heat to the bone, searing hot as my stomach made uncomfortable willies at the hollowed out hiss of his voice, and the meaning of the words made me almost want to collapse right there onto the cold concrete where I'd find more comfort then this crapy, tipsy metal chair.

"Alright."

I heard the screeching of the other metal chair that sat across from mine, the only space between us a table. I didn't want to be here with him. I never wanted to see his face again. But here I was...

"I go first..."

My chest was clenching so tight, I could hardly breath. Heck, could I even breath at all? I felt the burning in my lungs as it did in my bones, yet my spine kept ringing out cold waves that made me sit straight. My hands, laid in my lap, shook and I closed my eyes tightly.

"Pull the fucking trigger then."

I didn't mean to snap. Not that it really mattered that I was rude to him, but he was holding a gun, and in this game you had to be careful. Wait, I was thinking clearly now. That was good. I could keep a clear head in this, I was sure. I'm smart. I've always been smart.

"Someone's eager."

How he could sound so amused was beyond me. How could he even talk at this point? He had a gun to his head. Suddenly a chilling thought came to me as my palms sweated and I opened my eyes that I was trying hard to keep from showering hard out onto my lap. If he's here, sense he seems so at ease, it means he's never lost.

"Right."

I barley managed it, and then there was a click, but no shot- no bang or anything. Just a click.

"Your turn."

There was a sliding over metal until the gun lay visible and in front of me, waiting to be picked up. I could feel the spit rolling down my throat now, and I reached my shaking hand, trembling now and I touched the weapon hesitantly as its coldness bit at me.

"... Hh."

It was all I could sound, my mouth and throat were so clogged. Streams threatened to fall and slowly I sat up, looking up and into the man's eyes. They bore into me just as I thought they would, and with a stern line still over my lips, I raised the gun, are eyes still in contact. Suddenly his eyes snapped to my hands, startling me so much that I almost pulled the trigger.

"Calm yourself."

Even though I hated this man, I had decided, the words were still a comfort. I could feel a bit of ease trickle down my limbs and I cherished the feeling like a starving man food. But I was still shaking. I was shaking so bad I could feel my eyes quiver. Sweat rolled in hounds and my finger got slippery over the trigger, sending more bursts of fear into mind that I'd pull accidentally.

"..."

Click. I almost dropped the gun at how fast I wanted to slack over in my relief. I'd never cherished such a sound before in my life. I thought to myself, would I even hear the bang if there were a bullet?

"Hey? You want to hand that over already? Or, perhaps you want to go again?"

The gun however was slid across the table and back to the man in seconds, and he smiled.

"No."

His smile widened even more and I frowned at it, almost wishing to punch the look off his face. I took a breath, listening to it, closing my eyes before slowly opening them again, spying the man tip the gun back to his temple. Fear tightened on my heart again, a part of me wishing there'd be a bullet this round yet another part of me didn't want to hear it. Hear that loud bang and the clatter of the damned weapon falling to the floor, along with another thump of something much bigger and fleshed.

"It's good to say a prayer to yourself before you pull, did you know?"

Click. I tensed for a moment, freezing along with my breath before I slacked back a little, closed my eyes, looked up, then opened them again to be immediately met with icy, dead eyes.

"And did you know, that even when you die, no one will tell the difference between your eyes from when you were alive and when you're dead, they're so friged looking?"

The room of metal echoed his humming laugh that I almost hissed at, biting my lip. The room was so cold and blank, and crusted with brittle rust. I cursed at the smell and feel of it, and wondered why everything had gotten so dark suddenly.

"They're that cold looking?"

I hated the sound of screeching metal. I always have, I think. It was hard to tell now with my heart beating so loud and having to focus on reaching for the gun now laid on my side of the table. I picked it up, the weapon like ice on my fingers.

"Yes, they really are."

A sudden pulse went through me and I cracked down on the trigger before I even could register it, the only sign that gave me the idea that I had pulled was that sound that'd become so much like a music to my ears, yet in a sort of terrifying way. It was that sound. It was the click, and what made me want to vomit even more was the widening of the man's eyes before mine. But they weren't widening in fear, or anything human like that, they were widening in a greedy sort of way. Like he was licking up the clicks and tension like a rabid dog.

"Last round."

The words were so defining I wished I'd never heard them. Actually, I had wished I'd never heard a lot of things tonight.

"Yeah?"

I looked at him in what I hoped was a glare, but he seemed unaffected, like I hadn't even said anything or was even there. I held back and tried to recognize what was to happen next, taking it slow before I felt that cold tingling in my hand again, and gladly relived my hand of its burden, placing the cold metal pistol to the table, pushing it off like a can on the streets back to the man.

"I bet you like hearing it, right? The click."

I looked at him, desperately wishing he'd not talk, but some how I knew that was the only way we could have more time, but was it even worth it when the time was spent in agony and anticipation?

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Was the money worth it?

"Of course you don't."

His whiskered face was grinning again. Stop smiling, I thought to myself, holding my breath as it shook and my shoulder lurched, eye burning and feet eager to rattle at the ground.

"Not a thing..."

My voice was laced with a bit of humor to it, but it was shaking too, crackling before my eyes and tumbling out my fingers. My haggard breathing was becoming all too noticeable now, my body not holding up anymore as I felt myself rocking slightly.

"Well listen to this, if you hear that click again... next shot is for you... and that means the bullet is for you..."

The man was taunting him, and what was worse was I was still looking into those eyes. I wonder if my eyes will look like that when I'm dead. Will it pain people as much as it does me to look at those eyes? If it gave this much pain as it did me, I rather them sew my eyes shut tight, just to make sure. Just to make sure no one sees them. What horrid eyes. What painful, horrid eyes they were.

"Will you shoot me, if next shot is for me?"

It was a whisper but I know he heard. Not in these blasted metal rooms could you not hear such a thing. He laughed at it. Luckily, his voice cracked through his show of humor as he coughed roughly before his filthy mouth parted again.

"Depends, are you a good sport?"

His shaky chuckling started back up again and we both knew it wasn't a question to be answered, so I stayed quiet as he lazily brought the gun up to his temple, standing and looking down at me with an almost crazed look, like he'd been insane and in pain this entire time and it was just now breaking through the surface.

"I'm a good sport."

I said it like a good little boy, as though the situation was completely innocent and we were merely playing a friendly game of checkers. He seemed to go along with it, smiling so wide I began to fear he'd shoot at me.

"Tell me, Roxas, why aren't you smiling? This is a game, isn't it? Games are spoused to be fun."

Then a solid, clear tear drizzled down the scarred cheek of the man with such dead eyes before a bang filled the room, making me stop dead before I noticed, looking into those eyes, that I couldn't tell if his life had fleeted or not by just looking at the set of still as always glazed orbs, just as I had predicted. I stayed in that chair, stuck in my spot, hands in lap, for what felt like hours. It took time to realize that just as slowly as I had picked up the gun on my first turn, that I was not going to die tonight. So caught up in the moment, I hadn't realized it was time to let it pass and move on to another and many more to come, and so with a processing mind I took the duffle bag full of the lot, passed the heap of flesh on the dusty floor, and out the door to see another sunrise.

**Yep, on a cold night in a thunder storm you'd be surprised with what you end up with. Just putting this out there, I guess. Hope you enjoyed. **


End file.
